Reflections
by Beff
Summary: Luke and Wedge, right after the first Death Star. Rating for alcohol.


**Author's Note:** Just a random thingie. Not sure I like it, and will _not_ be part of my Rebel-pilot-background-story-epic I have semi-written. This piece presupposes that Wedge has no guilt and immediately gets along with Luke. And the name totally doesn't fit.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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**Reflection**

Alone, atop the ancient Massassi temple, Wedge raised an unsteady mug of ale to the smoldering embers of the Death Star. Below, in the light from the multiple moons, the others were celebrating, and their shouts echoed off the timeless structures.

He took a gulp of the ale, letting it burn, and savoring it. He deserved the pain.

He picked up a broken chip of rock and hucked it carelessly off into the darkness, letting it fall the several score of stories it was to the forest floor. He was drunk enough not to care if it accidentally hit someone, and sober enough not to care about his antipathy.

He went to raise his mug again, only to find it empty. A slurred curse, and he pulled his flask. Alderaanian brandy. Great for forgetting your problems - and everything else - in a hurry. Now that Alderaan was gone, this might be the last few drops of the stuff left. What better way to drink it than moping alone.

He took a deep pull and swallowed a belch, looking up at the stars almost completely blotted out by the flowing embers of the battle monstrosity.

"Pops." A pull.

"Hutch." Another. This one he held a moment longer, revealing in the masochism of the burning.

The litany of names continued, yet he kept pouring the harsh, searing liquor down his gullet.

"Johnny D."

"Tiree."

"Jek."

"… Biggs."

Wedge jerked unevenly at the soft voice.

In the shadows stood the Skywalker kid, looking very young and out of place - and alone. He, too, was still in his flight suit, though Wedge had the arms of his tied off around his waist and Skywalker was zipped to mid-chest. Gravel beneath his boots crunching, he came forward, and sunk down next to Wedge.

Wordlessly, Wedge handed him the flask, and the farm boy took a pull of his own. Wedge was impressed he didn't' gag on the stuff.

Luke slumped a bit, peering down at the celebration. " 's strange," he murmured softly, eyes drifting off, unfocused. "They're all celebrating, yet they're already working on evacuation plans for tomorrow, and they've… we've… lost almost all of our experienced pilots."

Wedge nodded, taking the proffered flask back. Sipping again, he wiped the back of his hand across his damp lip. "I know - but they," he swept his free hand broadly, "weren't _there_. Not really. They all know it rationally, but its more real when your wingmate suddenly becomes free-floating particles in your rear viewscreen."

Luke nodded, then was silent for a moment. "I need to send a message off to my aunt and uncle about Biggs. My aunt will take it hard."

Wedge handed him the flask back. "I know he was your cousin, and I'd like to avoid being trite and melodramatic, but he was a good man, and a better friend."

A nod from Luke.

"Not long after first joined up, he was my roommate - Jek and Bobby were on one side, Hutch on the other. Some nameless asteroid base in the middle of nowhere, just a transit point. We were all pretty much strangers; none of us had been assigned squadrons yet. Second night there, we all had a bit too much to drink, and Biggs thought it would be funny to deactivate the grav-generator."

Luke snorted, a smile ghosting across his lips, guessing where this was going.

"Porkins was so far in the bag, he tried frog-swimming around the rec room."

Luke choked on his liquor, droplets flying off into the darkness. "He didn't."

"Oh, yes he did," Wedge grinned at the memory. "And I have it on holo."

The pair chuckled, and Luke wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. He picked up the forgotten mug and poured a measure, handing the flask back to the Corellian. "They've assigned us as temporary wingmates and roommates."

"They did?" Wedge raised an eyebrow. He clinked his flask against the mug, and both threw their heads back, both wincing at the burn. "Who knows… maybe we could make things more interesting for them."


End file.
